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"If you are tempted by the awakening of your own long-dormant wanderlust, Going Gypsy can serve as a primer. . . . The questions [Veronica] poses about 'what next' are relatable ones for all empty nesters." —PBS's Next Avenue

Fear Conquering & the Flying Trapeze

It was my first fear conquering – as kids today say – “epic fail.”
Not pretty at all.

Maybe I was too jet lagged. Maybe it was too early in the morning. Maybe it was the ten extra pounds of delicious-food Europe weight. Maybe 50-ish is a bit too old to take up a new trick this physical – the reflexes ain’t what they used to be! Maybe I should shut up and stop making up excuses.

WATCH:

Our oldest Spawn, The Piglet, and I wanted a fun mother/daughter outing and, after seeing a troupe perform in a park on Governer’s Island last summer, we decided that trapeze school would be just the ticket for a daredevil bonding adventure.

David tagged along as videographer/cheerleader, proclaiming that the circus life was not for him… unless it involved clowning.

After a run-down of tips and tricks, and time to practice on a stationary, barely-off-the-ground low bar, I was strapped into a safety harness and was escorted to the ladder that led to the platform I would be launched from.

Knee-knockingly scared, I climbed rung by rung and cautiously stepped from the ladder to the platform — EGAD! it was high! — not certain I was going to be able to go through with it.

As my coach switched my safety cable from the one that kept me from falling down the ladder to the two cables that would keep me from breaking my neck on the trapeze, I wondered if it were too late to turn back. Would I have been the first?

The only reason my determination to succeed remained intact was my unwillingness to slow down the entire class – just standing there doing nothing took away precious time from my fellow flyers.

The REAL panic set in when I had to reach for the swing itself. Seriously, I had to lean forward over what might as well be miles of empty space and grab onto a bar that is trying to pull me off the platform?

Clearly, I hadn’t thought this through. Even though I was being held from behind by a big strong man and had a coach next to me explaining every step, it still took every ounce of guts I could muster to hold on to the bar and just stand there.

Rigor mortis had set in.

What if I can’t hold on to the bar? Is the guy in charge of the safety cables paying attention? When was the last time they inspected the swing for cracks?

My brain screamed my panic mantra, “People do this everyday and do not die…people do this everyday and do not…” I wasn’t fully convinced of the second part of it.

After a few awkward false starts, I let go and screamed my way across the gym. Exhilarating!

The night before, when The Piglet and I were excitedly talking about our upcoming adventure, all I thought I needed to do was a swing from the bar. That would be enough, I didn’t need to learn any fancy tricks. But now, the adrenaline had kicked in and I wanted more. It was time to attempt a knee hang.

My attempts weren’t pretty, and I knew it (and wow – after seeing the video – it was worse than I’d thought), but I was proud of myself anyway.

After a few runs, I had the knee hang down, but realized that my responses to the shouted commands of my instructor were slowing and my heretofore unused muscles needed for the task weren’t responding anymore. The Piglet and the other young whippersnappers in the class were getting better with every run, I had hit my peak, and I knew it.

It was at this point that we were informed that we could attempt a catch – if we felt up to it. One of the instructors would be swinging on the other side and if we properly executed our knee hang and reached out as we were taught, we would be caught by our wrists and glide as gracefully as a seasoned circus performer to the far side of the gym.

The Piglet, huge determined grin on her face, scampered up the ladder and flawlessly achieved just that. I was in awe of her grace and beauty. I had that Mommy-proud surge of love and joy as she hit the mat triumphant. After happy hugs and high fives, it was my turn.

I was proud of my progress as I grabbed the bar and left the platform without much fear – and no screaming. I heard my coach’s shout to begin my knee hang just fine. Problem was, my muscles were played out. My legs just wouldn’t go over my head.

After dropping down to the mat on this failed attempt, I had to admit to my coach (and myself) that I couldn’t go any further.

I sat on the sidelines and watched as The Piglet and the rest of my classmates flew though the air with the greatest of ease. I was jealous. And a bit embarrassed. And mad at myself. I was pouting inside. I’m not proud of it, but there it was.

Rather than basking in my own private pity party, I made the decision to defect over to the cheerleader side and stood with David, his arm around my thickening waist, proudly watching our beautiful daughter in all her glory. She was truly spectacular.

I guess we’re never to old to bask in our children’s accomplishments.

Epic fail or not, it was a blast! Next time I’m in Brooklyn, I’m giving it another go – maybe with a little rest and another lesson under my (safety) belt, I can lick this challenge!

Hey Veronica……You Go Girl!!! Hey, you have the “guts” to give it a try….I give you credit for doing so! It was an experience to talk about and to remember…..don’t beat yourself up over this….I thought you were GREAT!!! If I had a “significant other,” I would love to do exactly what you’re both doing…….

You are awesome. I tried the Cirque du Soleil silks with my son. When I said I simply did not have the strength to climb up, they simply tied a knot under my feet so I could lay out. But, nothing like the trapeze! Yaay, you!

Since we started traveling, I’ve had the stuffing scared out of me by striving to overcome my fear of heights-the Grand Canyon was the first but not last place for that. Three years later, still climbing and still frightened out of my wits. Possibly, I just need to get comfortable with being down on the ground…

Both you and your husband have a creative way of writing that I, generally, enjoy. It is good to read about your travels.
With that said, I am annoyed every time you refer to your children as “spawn”, the definition of which is: “the product or offspring of a person or place (used to express distaste or disgust)”. Spawn is considered a derogatory term by most people. This is a strange expression to use to refer to your children. In my opinion, most people would consider this a weird term to brand one’s children with. You also refer to your daughter as “Piglet”. Your daughter is a beautiful young adult woman, hardly deserving of the name “Piglet” as an adult now. Maybe when she was a chubby baby it was your affectionate name for her. I wonder how your daughter feels about being referred to as “piglet” now, and named as such for all the world to see (as well as her friends) on your public site. Have you ever asked her? How would you like being referred to as “piglet’ or “spawn”? Maybe this is a “family thing” that your own parents did as well. Someone else mentioned their distaste of you referring to your children as “spawn”. I don’t know what your response was. I know you’re both fun loving people, but these names you call your children are like barbs in your, otherwise, enjoyable travel writing. Please don’t be angry. This is just some constructive criticism for you to improve your writing and how it may be perceived by many. Happy trails!

Daniel,
Thank you for your kind words and for taking the time to express your thoughts here.
Every family has their own sense of humor, and this is ours. I am extremely protective of my grown children’s privacy – hence the nicknames. And yes, they are just fine with them. -Veronica